The way you reflect in this heart of mine
by Epsymoon
Summary: Kon asks Tim a simple question. And genius or not, Tim seems incapable to give a decent answer. But it's a well known fact that Kon has sometimes strange ideas... Just some fluff inspired by Kaciart's amazing pic, linked just here!


The way you reflect in this heart of mine

_**Disclaimer: **Tim Drake and Kon'El belong to DC. _

_This work was inspired by an old piece of Kaciart's wonderful art, that you can find here (remove the asterisks): ______http:*/kaciart*.tumblr*.com*/post/17801487983 You'll see the parts of dialogue that I have taken from her post too. _  


_The title is a borrowed line from Mirrors by Justin Timberlake. Because I suck at titles._

_I don't have anything else to say, except that this is my first DC fic, even if I've read a ridiculous amount of them. It's the first time that I write slash too. And this is the first text I wrote in a long time (too much first times!), so I truly hope that it's decent :)_

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"This is absurd," Tim says, but he's got that little smile of his anyway. Kon sees it in the mirror just in front of them as he is hugging Tim from behind, his chin on the top of the so-much-shorter boy's head.

Kon rolls his eyes. "Will you just do it?" And then, softly: "Please?" And just like that, Tim is obligated to say something.

"Fine," he sighs, because not for the first time, Tim can't seem to get where Kon is going. He doesn't understand the point of being pulled out of bed to just put him in front of the mirror of the bathroom, still in his pyjamas pants, and trying to guess what Kon wants him to answer when asked '_What are you seeing?_'. If there is something that Tim hates, besides the constantly smug look on the Demon brat's face, it's not understanding. It's not being able to search, dissect, examine, scan and dig until he finally _understands_ what he didn't get before. And he's practically sure that Kon knows it.

But Tim's clueless, even as his eyes scan the glass in front of them and examine closely his and Kon's reflection; even as his brain dissects the question to find a clue and his mind searches the one good solution.

But Kon's embrace tightens around him as he poses his head on his naked shoulder, and Tim can feel Kon's heat seeping trough his pores and fill his entire self, and Kon's heart is pounding against his back, strong and fierce, and it's the same kind of feeling than when they are on the field because Kon will alway be this _strong _and_ fierce_ and reassuring presence that has his back, literally or not.

And yeah, okay. Maybe Tim can begin to see a tiny little point behind all of this. So he tries.

"Fine. I see me, you," Tim offers weakly. He began to see a point, that just didn't last. "That's it," he adds, because he _might_ start to feel just a little bit frustated.

He's not the only one, obviously. Kon has the face of a fried fish in the mirror.

"Wow, Tim. Could you be more disinterested?"

"Probably," Tim deadpans. And he's totally frustated now. He tilts his head just a little, until it's pressed against Kon's. Because he is well-damn decided to get at least some benefit from this stupid game. "You asked for my objective opinion." But that doesn't mean he won't point out all the nonsense of said game to his boyfriend.

Kon rolls his eyes again, because _of course_ Tim is seeing this like an equation. But that's not enough to discourage him. "Try harder," he commands, and that's enough for Tim to throw a last random guess. Which, for Tim, is the same as completely giving up _trying_.

"What am I supposed to be looking at? Scars?" Really, that's all Tim can find remarkable in his reflexion. He sighs. "Kon, this is inane. I don't see anything."

And Tim is somewhat hoping that Kon will give him the solution after his small outburst, but Kon just snorts– he's a jerk like that. "Right, okay."

"What's with the tone?" Tim immediatly asks, because now Kon is frustated too, and really, he has no right to be.

"There is no tone." Like Hell.

"There is too a tone," Tim insists. And then, a little guilty, "Did I do it wrong?" Perhaps he hates not understanding Kon more than Damian's constantly smug face, after all. Perhaps he'd prefer not being able to solve a case than not being able to solve that.

But something in his tone makes Kon have this fond smile that he has sometimes when Tim can't seem to get where he's going, like he is teaching something to a kid. And Tim would never admit it, but he _loves_ that smile, even if he should be offended.

What he doesn't know that Kon would never admit, though, is that Kon finds it utterly adorable, this lost and perplexed expression on Tim's face when he can't find the solution to a problem right away.

But, heh. Kon's there for that, isn't he?

"Okay, shush and let me tell you what I see." He pauses, letting himself the time to adjust his hold on his lover, who seems genuinly curious now. Kon's smile widens.

"I don't see any scar, actually." He feels the need to give Tim a response on the subject. "I see your history. I see the fights that you won, by yourself..." Kon traces a mark on Tim's right forearm, there since an encounter against Ivy that he once told Kon, "and the fights that we won together." The half-Kryptonian's hand climb on a cut on Tim's shoulder. "I see some defeats, too. When I look at them, I see you fall. And then get up. Inescapably, inevitably, you just... get up."

Tim's all stiff, now, with his eyes wide open and his cheeks just a little red. It's adorable, Kon thinks, and can feel and hear Tim's heart beat faster, too. That's always been the most precious sound in he world to him.

He nudges Tim even closer. "These aren't scars, Tim. These are witnesses of your acomplishements." Kon's hand hovers over the third Robin's belly, then reach a little higher, on the left, where his spleen was. Tim's hand sets on Kon's. "Some of them are on your body, but when I look into your eyes, I see the ones that are hidden, too." Sky-blue eyes dive into grey-blue ones through the glass.

For several seconds that feel like comfortably long minutes, they just stare at each other, listen each other breath, drown into each other's presence.

Then Kon goes on.

"I see us. Together. We're as one." Kon chuckles. "I dunno, Tim. What I am unable to see at this very moment, is what could pull us apart."

Something in Tim's eyes soften. He leans more completely in Kon's embrace. "I think," he begins, and it surprises Kon a little to get a response now, "That I'm beginning to see us, too."

And Kon's face stretch into his 'I-am-a-happy-eight-year-old' grin. "Shut up," he whispers. "You suck at that. And I'm not done." That makes Tim snort.

"I see us," Kon repeats. "Then, and only then, I can see you. All of you. I see your eyes with all their little color nuances, and what they say to me. I see the way shade and light hover on your face and shoulders and chest and stomach. I see things like the shape of your nose..." And Kon totally _hasn't_ a teasing light in his eyes when he adds, "and the way your nostrils wriggle when you laugh."

"My nostrils don't _wriggle_ when I laugh!" Tim immediatly protests, indignant.

"They do," Kon insists. "Don't interrupt me. I know better."

"Oh, really?" Tim ironises, his voice not so convicted.

"Of course." Kon's tone, no longer teasing, is steady and certain now. "I _see_ you, Tim. All of you. I see how much I _know _you. Every single detail that makes you." Kon's nose settles into the crook of Tim's neck. "I see how much I love you."

There's something warm in Tim's chest, that climb in his throat and trap his voice here. It's painful in a delicious kind of way, but it prevents Tim to offer a decent answer to Kon. So he hopes that the look he is giving through the mirror allows Kon to understand how Tim feels. And he realizes, finally, that he can _see_ how much Kon understands him, just by looking _correctly_ at the glass. At them.

"And now," Kon murmurs, and Tim focalises on the way his lips move in the mirror, to see the tiny movements they do when used; and, if he concentrates, he thinks can see their taste too. That doesn't feel as absurd as it should, Tim notices as Kon goes on. "I can see myself. I see the promises that I've made to you. I see what you bring to me. I see..."

Tim turns towards Kon, forcing him to release his grip on him a little. And pressing his lips against Kon's in a sudden but soft kiss.

"You interrupted me again," Kon complains in a winning voice when they pull apart. His smile becomes just a little horny. "But I was going to say that I see how much I want you, so it seems pretty appropriate." Tim doesn't even snorts. His eyes are so honest right now, the look he's giving so piercing; it shuts Kon up.

"And I," Tim's voice is hoarse. He tries to swallow the lump in his throat. "And I see_ you_, Kon." It's weak and almost pathetic given Kon's previous rant, but it's all he can offer. He's not the one that's good with words in their couple. "I can see you, too." But he tries. And he can see how much that means for Kon, and how much Kon doesn't need his words to get Tim's point.

The Super's expression grows as soft as his strong arms are around Tim. It will always surprise him how much those arms, made to destroy and tear apart and crush, can be gentle and caring, treating him like something small and fragile and _precious_, in a way that Tim can't bring himself to be offended by the 'small and fragile' part.

"Okay," Kon responds quietly. "I'm glad that you do. But," Kon tilts his head to the side, "You know what else I can see in the glass?"

"What?" Tim asks, perplexed by the sudden change of tone in his boyfriend's voice.

"The open door of the bathroom, that leaves a direct sight to the bed." Kon's grin is horny again. "And your ass."

Tim just laughs.

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_I would love to see what you thought of it. English is not my first language, so feel free to point out any mistake so I can know if it's correctly written. I hope it wasn't OOC too.  
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_Thank you for reading!_


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